Page 32 of Affair

The grim tone of his voice brought her up short. “What on earth is the matter, sir?”

He went to stand at the window. “Last night after I left you, I did a great deal of thinking.”

“So did I.”

“I doubt that we came to similar conclusions.”

“Mr. St. Ives, I do not understand what this is all about.”

“There are some things I must explain to you.”

“What things?” A coil of unease began to untwist within her. Perhaps he already regretted last night’s brief bout of passion. “Sir, you are behaving in a rather mysterious fashion today. Is something wrong?”

“Bloody hell. We are engaged in a hunt for a murderer. Of course something is wrong. For your information, Charlotte, this sort of venture is not a common occupation for ladies. Nor is it considered a gentleman’s sport, for that matter.”

“I see.” She took refuge in pride. “If you are having second thoughts, you may, of course, resign your position in my service.”

“I fear that I can no longer play the part of your man-of-affairs, regardless of how well suited I am to the role.”

It is finished. So soon. Before I have even gotten to know him. Baxter was going to walk out the door. The intense sense of loss that surged through her alarmed Charlotte. This was ridiculous. She barely knew the man. She must get a grip on her emotions.

“Perhaps you would be good enough to explain, sir?” she said crisply.

“It would be best to begin at the start of this affair, I suppose.” Baxter turned to face her at last. His eyes were unreadable. “It was no coincidence that I applied for the position you offered. I had already tracked down John Marcle with the intention of discovering everything I could about your finances.”

“Good heavens.” Charlotte felt a cold, prickling sensation on her skin. Slowly she sank down into her chair. “Why?”

“My aunt was a close friend of Drusilla Heskett’s. She asked me to make inquiries into the murder. The trail led immediately to you. In fact, it started with you.”

“My God.”

“She believed that you were responsible for Mrs. Heskett’s murder, you see.”

“Bloody hell.” Whatever it was she had braced herself to hear, this was certainly not it. For a moment Charlotte was bereft of speech.

“Yes, I know,” Baxter muttered. “I warned you this would be a little difficult to explain.”

“Let me be sure I have this clear. Your aunt believes that I killed poor Mrs. Heskett? But what could possibly have given her such a notion?”

“The fact that Mrs. Heskett had recently paid you a large sum of money.”

Charlotte was outraged. “But that was for my services. I told you, I made inquiries on Drusilla Heskett’s behalf into the background of some of the gentlemen who wished to marry her.”

Baxter shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m aware of that now. But my aunt did not know it. Apparently Mrs. Heskett honored your desire for confidentiality. She never told my aunt the nature of her business with you. After the murder, Rosalind assumed the worst.”

“I see. What exactly did your aunt make of the fact that Mrs. Heskett had paid me a large sum of money?”

“She assumed that you had blackmailed Drusilla.”

“Blackmail.”Charlotte groaned and dropped her head into her hands. Visions of her hard-won career in ruins due to ghastly rumors that she might be a villainess danced wildly in her brain. “This grows worse by the minute. We have moved from the incredible to the truly bizarre.”

“Indeed.” Baxter walked slowly across the carpet to stand behind the chair in front of the desk.

Charlotte raised her head and watched warily as he gripped the polished mahogany chair. For some reason she found herself transfixed by his big, capable hands.

“Go on, sir. I have the feeling there is more to come.”

“Having decided that you were a blackmailer, it was no great leap for my aunt to arrive at the conclusion that you had also murdered Mrs. Heskett.”

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